Don't Speak
by Cassiel Oliviari
Summary: Draco Malfoy is stuck in St Mungo's unable to move, with his jaw wired shut. How will Hermione, an intern Healer, take advantage of the situation, or will she do nothing at all? Updated 1114
1. DS Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own harry potter

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HELP! I'm becoming addicted to one-shots!

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Dedicated to Taylor

Don't Speak

He had been in St. Mungo's for five days now. Five days of intense pain, utter solitude, and liquid meals, plus loopy nurses staring at his privates. Five days of drifting in and out of consciousness, with nothing to do, and no one to talk to.

The worst thing about it were the wires, by far. They weren't normal Muggle ones, of course. They were magically enforced, and charmed to increase healing. They clasped his mouth completely shut, save for a one-inch gap, which the Healers slipped a straw in for his meals.

"You were very lucky," they told him. "You could have landed right on top of your head." They always smiled when they said that, which Draco found very creepy. In fact, he found everything about them creepy. Their plastic smiles, and ugly green robes just plain pissed him off.

He supposed he _had _been lucky with the fall. He could have landed on his back, or worse, his head, which might have killed him. Instead, he had landed right in the stands, on his arse, falling next to the Minister of Magic himself. No, it wasn't the fall that hurt him, it was that stupid Bludger, hit by that sodding Beater. They (meaning the incompetent referee, of course) had called it a clean hit, which showed how stupid they were. It was _not _clean! If it was clean, he would still have his jaw firmly intact, and would be most likely be spending money and wrecking havoc by now!

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Dumb-arse ref, he thought to himself. He had to think to himself, because thanks to the wires, he couldn't speak without sounding like an idiot, and if there was one thing he liked less than not speaking, it was being an idiot.

He glanced longingly over at his bedside table, where a nice little hand mirror was laying. Mother had forbidden anyone from giving it to him, so he was now reduced to inching his fingers across the smooth, wooden tabletop, desperately trying to reach it. It had been six days since he had last seen himself, which was longer than any Malfoy had ever been without primping.

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My hair must be an utter mess! He mused miserably. Raising a hand, he felt the bale of straw now residing on top of his head, and shuddered. He then felt his cheek, which was swollen slightly, then let his fingers drift across his face, trying to feel the things he couldn't see for himself.

A flash of brown caught his eye, and he quickly dropped his hand back onto his bed. _A guest, hopefully._

It was a guest, of sorts.

****

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"That's wonderful, Gilderoy, you're doing great!"

Hermione smiled encouragingly at her former professor, who was successfully doing a number of spells with a safety-charmed wand. It was all coming back to him quite rapidly now, he had mastered _avis_ in a few short minutes, and was now working on _expelliarmus_.

A portly Healer with a large amount of freckles walked up to Hermione, beaming. Her name was Gunhilda Guthig, and she was the resident mediwitch of the fourth floor. Hermione idolized her obsessively, she being a Muggle-born and all.

"You've made great strides in helping Gilderoy today, Miss Granger," Gunhilda said, smiling gently at the blushing girl in front of her. "Same time tomorrow, I assume?"

"I wouldn't miss it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Bye Healer Guthig, Gilderoy!" She blew a kiss at the treacle-haired gent, who waved his hand goodbye in return.

Giving a nod to the witch at the desk, Hermione exited the Spell Damage ward, and headed down the stairs to the ground floor. She sighed happily. Her summer job at St. Mungo's was turning into the highlight of her holiday, especially working with a Healer as experienced as Mrs. Guthig. The hours she clocked in would reap benefits for her as soon as she graduated, and the experience she gained would last a lifetime. Even her parents approved, as she was trying out a profession very close to their own.

She said various farewells to the Healers when she got down to the ground floor, and was about to head out the door, when something caught her eye.

It was the floor guide next to the Welcome Witch. Hermione saw the darn thing almost every single day, but for some reason, today it seemed important.

ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS…………………………Ground Floor

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Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom

crashes, etc.

She shook her head, and decided to check out that ward any ways. It wasn't her favourite one to work in, most cases were usually by the book, and remedied with some simple charms and potions. Pushing the door open, she headed down the hall, her lime-green uniform blending in with the rest of the crowd.

She spotted an open door that looked very inviting and gloomy. Most patients didn't get many visitors during the summer break, and the nice weather was enough to make some go mad. Deciding that she would only stay for a bit, she walked up to the door, and peeked in.

****

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was Granger, doing good deeds by the looks of it. She was wearing the same nasty green robes as everyone else in this hell-hole, and she had a nametag clipped neatly to her pocket.

"Oh…..hi," she mumbled, sounding a bit disappointed. "You're in here."

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Nice to see you too. Draco glared at her.

"I heard about what happened to you," she said a bit smugly. "A Bludger to the face, eh? At a Quidditch camp for rich brats? I bet your father loved that."

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He didn't actually care.

She walked across his room, and sat down on the visitors stool in the corner. "Having fun?" she asked. He didn't dare shake his head, last time he even moved, his wires shifted, and he sat screaming (inwardly) in pain whilst the Healers fixed him up. Granger would no doubt know he couldn't actually _make conversation_ with her, God forbid, wires or no wires. It simply wasn't done.

A one sided conversation, however, was all she seemed to want.

"I guess you might be wondering why I'm here," she started off. He rolled his eyes, and pulled at the sleeve of her ugly robes, hoping to get across the point that he did indeed know why she was there. He wasn't stupid after all!

She didn't seem to get it, and continued to ramble. "I'm volunteering here, because I wanted to see what it was like. I want to help people, which is something I guess you don't understand. It's something only the poor and kind get to know about."

Draco was getting peeved. Was this Granger's evil plan? To sit there and insult him while he was mute and immobile?

It seemed to be. "You must not get many chances to help people, since your family has, what is it again? 67 Million Galleons, or something like that?"

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68.9 Million, to be exact.

"It's a great feeling. Like a warm, fuzzy cloud that settles in your stomach, and spreads over your entire body. Honestly, you should try it sometime, though it would require for you to do something for yourself, for a change."

He was genuinely hurt. He did things for people, didn't he? He tutored his fellow Slytherins in the Dark Arts, and sometimes he even helped a curious Ravenclaw, or two.

She stared into space for a few minutes, then suddenly hopped off the stool, and ran out the door.

"See you at school, Malfoy," she called back at him.

He wouldn't have to wait that long.

****

OOOOOOOOOOOO

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I have just decided that this isn't a one shot, but I have no time to get rid of the one shot notice, nor do I have time to explain the dedication. Next time, perhaps? Read and review, please!


	2. DS Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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They are in their 7th year

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Don't Speak

Part Two

"Hey Ginny?"

The stoic redhead stopped her persistent sucking of a sugar quill to glance up at her friend. "What is it, Herm?"

Harry and Ron, who were also in the room, glanced up with interest. None of them had even said a word in the last five minutes, and now Hermione was asking a question, with a slight break in her voice. This was big news, they were sure of it.

"Uh…. I was wondering if we could go to Diagon Alley tomorrow for a bit of a shopping trip. You know, clothes and bits?"

The two boys rolled their eyes, and returned to scanning their copies of _Martin Miggs: Mad Muggle. _It sounded like girl talk to them, and that was definitely something they didn't want to get involved in.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow in interest. "School's not for another three weeks. We still have plenty of time."

"Yeah, Mione," Harry grunted from behind his comic. "Don't have a coronary."

"I am NOT having a coronary!" Hermione protested. "I just think that we should all at least _try _to be organized this year!"

No one was listening. As usual. She huffed quietly to herself, and decided to take a run outside anyway. Some fresh air would do her good.

****

OIOIOOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

The entrance to _Bruno's Broom Bonanza _was especially crowded this morning, thanks to one special guest. Oliver Wood, Quidditch star, and Chaser for the championship team Puddlemere United, was visiting, and his arrival elicited screams and other goings on from the ninety-odd girls surrounding him.

Hermione, being a gloriously curious witch, stopped by the shop on her way to a bookstore. She caught the guest of honour's eye, and he quickly beckoned her over.

"'ermi-ne!" he said in his charming Scottish brogue. The two embraced like old friends, and he sat her down next to him behind a table.

"So 'ow are things at 'ogwarts lately?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know, as I haven't been there in almost a month." He chuckled quietly to himself, and Hermione began chatting easily with him. He stopped their conversation for about a half hour to sign some autographs, then they eased back into talking, about his work, and her school mostly. Harry came up occasionally, and Oliver seemed quite amused that Ron had taken his place on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

"Bloo-y bloke co-un't catch a Quaffle if I' bi-' 'im righ' on 'is bloo-y nose!" he exclaimed with vehemence.

The clock struck ten behind them, and Hermione jumped in her seat.

"Omigoodness! It's so late!" she shrieked. Bidding goodbye to Oliver, she stood up, and headed down the street. But it didn't seem so familiar after all. The once lighted store fronts were now dark as lethifolds, swallowing up the icy moonlight.

After walking in circles for about five minutes, she finally decided to stay put on a street corner, and wait for someone to pass by. It didn't happen.

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Someone's staring at me.

She silently counted to ten, and then whirled around. A pair of cold, lifeless eyes stared back at her.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!"

She reached out to push her attacker away, but her fingers hit cool glass, and buckled.

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What?

Then it hit her. She laughed nervously at herself, and hit her forehead with her palm. It was the St. Mungo's entrance, which she should have been familiar with! Still a bit giggly, she faced the dummy (which now looked rather comical and fake) and enunciated, "I am here for volunteer hours. My name is Hermione Granger."

It was really late to be working, but Hermione was too freaked out to care. The mannequin beckoned her inside with one of its ridiculously gloved fingers, and she walked through the glass into the sterile environment.

The Welcome Witch stared bleary eyed at her. "A bit late to be logging hours, don't you think, Miss Granger?"

Hermione just shrugged, and headed down the hall into the coffee lounge. Healer Salle, a French wizard with extensive study in pixie bites, was the only one there, and he looked pretty out of it. Pouring herself a mug of java, she donned her lime green robes, and flipped through her authorized patient files.

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Katy Morris

Room 407

Compulsive eye-crossing. Must be led around.

Hermione snorted. There had been a lot of Spell Damage lately, most likely induced by students being home. On the bright side, several new jinxes had been discovered this week, and she had even found the origins of a hex that made one's toenail's fall off. Highly useful.

She abandoned the files on the table, next to the now comatose Healer Salle. Roaming the halls was more her thing, she could maybe do a bit of fetching for the more needy patients, and if she was lucky, she could catch a nap in an empty room.

****

CRASH!

"MFRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Pushing open the door, she bolted out of the coffee room, and down the corridor of the Artifact Accident ward, towards the source of the agonizing scream. She skidded to a halt in front of a vaguely familiar door, and ran in.

"MALFOY! What did you _do_ here?"

Malfoy was half lying, half falling off of his bed, clutching a few reflective shards of glass, bed sheets wrapped protectively around his middle. Hermione spared any explanations, and ran to his side, hoisting him back up. He was moaning in a horrible, strangled way as she pulled out her wand, and re-adjusted his wires.

"It's okay, it's okay…" she mumbled, both to herself, and him. His breathing became less shallow, and he finally fell back onto his pillows, groaning. She stared, shell-shocked, at his sweaty face, and tense body.

That had come on _impulse._ All of it! She had rushed to an emergency situation, and acted instinctively to fix it! She would make a Healer yet!

"Are you…better?" she choked out, then remembered that he couldn't answer. "Oh…sorry."

He rolled his eyes at her, clearly thinking up a million witty comebacks in his head. Hermione smirked to herself.

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Oh, what a pity, he can't talk back.

To his obvious protest, she sat herself down on the visitor's perch, making herself at home. "It's quite quaint here, isn't it?" she said, looking around his room. The walls had been charmed green, with little silver detailing, and there were hundreds of gift baskets and other goodies strewn about.

"I guess they've forgotten that you can't eat."

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He can't eat!

Under the pretense of giving him a good, hard glare, she stole a quick look at his body, and nearly fainted. At first, walking in, she hadn't really noticed his frame, but at rest, she could fully understand.

He was emancipated and gaunt. His brilliant blue eyes were sunk in to his face, which was scarred and disfigured from the break. Hermione had heard stories, mostly from Parvati, of his "rock hard abs" and "toned arms", which were now nearly skin and bones. He was a skeleton.

"I…."

He glared back at her, not enjoying her company _at all._ She turned pink under his stare, and averted her eyes to the floor, where the shattered remains of a hand mirror were located.

"So this is what made the crash," she mumbled. She had always assumed the Malfoy was vain, and this now confirmed it. Jostling his wires for a stupid mirror?

Deftly, she repaired the mirror, and placed it back on his bedside table.

"Mffffungh."

"I…..I shouldn't let you look at yourself." She edged it farther away from his grasp. "You need to heal, not stare at yourself."

Glare. Glare, glare, glare.

"Your glaring isn't working. I won't let you see yourself."

It was all protocol, after all. Patients involved in disfiguring accidents were never allowed to see their reflections until they were visibly improved. In Malfoy's case, seeing himself might discourage him, and he would lose all drive to heal himself.

Finally, he just grumbled and sunk into his fluffy pillows. A few minutes later, he was out like a light.

"Hermione?"

She spun around on the cold metal stool, and saw Healer Salle standing at the door, smiling. "I'm heading by your way, and I was wondering if you wanted a walk back."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you." Salle offered her his arm, and with one last glance at Malfoy, she walked out the door.

****

OIOIOIOIOIOIOUIO

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Hope you liked it! Oh yes, check out the C2 I'm at, it's really good!

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Thank you:

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MeLiO, slyswn28, Bea, Ptrst, Shanmo (of course I don't mind**!), harryptaxd204, scarlet-knight13, Cedars, LushBaby **(I LURVE LUSH! Demon in the Dark is my Draco soap!)**, honey-gurl808, SlytherinRoyalty, Puzzlette**


	3. DS Part 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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Check out the Draco/Hermione C2 I'm part of!

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Don't Speak Part 3

Hermione did not know how she came about this certain piece of information. In fact, it was almost scandalous that she knew it, being a Gryffindor and all. What Gryffindor would be caught dead admitting to knowing the Slytherin Prince's favourite Quidditch team?

"Falmouth Falcons vs. Pride of Portree at Skye Quidditch Centre," she mumbled, reading off a flyer posted in the coffee lounge. It showed several gorgeous female Chasers, dressed in purple, form-fitting robes, glaring at two burly 'man's men' in grey. The mock rivalry was laughable, to say the least.

"I love the Pride," Healer DeSotho confessed, peeking over Hermione's shoulder. "It gives me goose pimples just watching them. Quite an example of 'girl power', eh?"

"Spice Girls?" Hermione sputtered. DeSotho blushed a pretty pink that complemented her ash blonde hair.

"I'm young, okay?"

The two laughed. Jane DeSotho was right around Hermione's age, and was, in her own words, a "late discovery". Her magic had not been detected until three years ago, and to make up for lost time, she was doing the Healer's course at St. Mungo's.

"Quidditch is amazing," she said wistfully. "So glamorous and graceful. The players aren't bad either."

"Mhhhmmm…." Hermione answered dreamily. The skill of flying had evaded her since First Year, but she could still enjoy the beauty of the sport. And its players…..

Jane cleared her throat. "Oh, yes, speaking of which, Francine's friend has been asking about you." She held out a folder. "In his own special way, of course."

"He is not just _my _friend, Jane," Healer Francine Palmer objected, throwing her colleague a scathing glare.

Hermione gave Healer Palmer an inquiring look. "Who's your _friend_?"

"Oh, you know, the Quidditch player in the Artifact Accidents wing. The cute one," she added, as if _that _helped any!

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They can't be talking about…

Hermione groaned. "Not Draco Malfoy!"

The two other Healers burst into giggles at the sound of the name. "Yes, _that_ one!" Jane answered, breathlessly.

"I wouldn't call him cute," Hermione retorted. "More like pointy, emancipated, gaunt and scrawny!"

"As if that's _his_ fault!" Francine retorted haughtily. "He can't eat anything! When he first came in, he was _quite_ handsome!"

"Handsome?"

"Yes, _handsome,_ Healer-in-Training Granger!"

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Someone needs to adjust their boy-metre… "Wait! He was asking about _me?_"

Jane giggled again. "Yes, _you_!"

Hermione glanced at the calendar hanging on the corkboard.

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It's been nearly 4 days since I last visited!

"Oh….me."

Mumbling a hurried excuse, she grabbed his folder, and darted out the door. She hastily told herself that she didn't _really _care about the stupid ferret, she just needed to check up on him. Maybe save him from the nookie-hungry Healers. It wasn't guilt. Of course not.

She gave a quick nod to an elderly male Healer with a greying beard, then ducked into Malfoy's room.

The minute she walked in, she knew she was in deep shit. His eyes seemed to bore right into the back of her skull, and she was surprised horns didn't just sprout out of his head.

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Don't let him intimidate you, Hermione. You can talk. He can't.

"Miss me?" she asked, in a syrupy sweet voice. He groaned into his wires, and she laughed darkly. "I know, your lack of presence has left an empty space in my cold, callused heart."

His frequent eye rolls seemed like his favourite form of communicating. She was surprised that those blue-grey-sliver-whatever-the-heck-they-were orbs hadn't just rolled right out of his head yet. Then again, she supposed that if she were in his position, eye rolling would seem quite attractive to her as well.

She pulled up the stool, and plunked down on it. "Francie's been telling me all about your little experiments with writing," she said calmly. His face turned beet red, and she could almost hear him begging her not to say the next line.

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Sorry, ferret-face. It's my turn to be cruel.

"She said that you were _asking_ about me! Isn't that precious!" she gushed.

"Uhhngh!"

"I thought so too!"

Flipping through his file, she continued to ramble endlessly about him. Bullshitting, basically. "She also told me about your fear of the dark! I couldn't believe it, seeing as I thought ferrets were nocturnal, but that shows how much I know! Oh, look!" She flashed a hot pink slip in front of his face. "You get to start walking in a week!"

His face instantly lit up with joy. Always the atomic killjoy, Hermione cautioned, "I heard it hurts brutally, walking about with the wires still on."

He glared at her, and she winced. "Ouch. If looks could kill, I would be lying in a bed next to you."

Not one of her wittiest comebacks, but had she ever made a comeback to a _glare_? Not that it really mattered. Malfoy wouldn't be able to heckle her for another month, at least.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Malfoy still glaring, and Hermione flipping through his folder, pausing to yawn every couple seconds. According to the papers, he was making good progress, and he was a compliant, if not a bit grumpy, patient.

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Who would've known that Draco Malfoy could actually survive in a hospital?

Not really thinking about what came out of her mouth, she commented, "Falmouth Falcons are at Portree next week."

His eyes literally _bugged out_ of his head. Understandably, of course, as it was a common reaction at the news of a game, especially from a Quidditch-starved freak like Malfoy.

"Falmouth's your favourite, isn't it?" she asked, nonchalantly, glancing out of the corner of her eye at his reaction.

Another glare. Typical.

"You are no fun to talk to when you're like this," she grumbled, closing his file, and placing it on his nightstand. "I know, I might have said that already."

Glare. Eye-roll.

"Well, all things considered, you're actually way more pleasant this way. You're usually so…snarky."

He cocked an eyebrow at her creative language.

"Never heard that word before?" She laughed to herself. "I can't imagine your family ever saying it. It's a Muggle thing, I guess."

"Guhhhhhhh…"

"Don't 'guh' me!" She poked him on the forehead. "People like you could learn some things from Muggles."

His face clearly betrayed his skepticism. "You don't think so? Well, take those wires in your mouth. About two years ago, wizards used to charm jaw bones back into place, with a very low success rate. A couple enterprising Healers experimented with the Muggle concept of 'stitches' and 'wires', and found them to be much more effective."

"Uuuh nuuuhh cuhhhphtuhbuhhhh."

"I suppose not, but you have to consider the alternatives."

Hermione paused. _Did I just, heaven forbid, understand what he said?_

"And second of all, what about hair gel? It was invented by Muggles too!"

If eyes could talk, his would be saying "Get out!"

"I'm serious! I don't remember who did it, or how it was done, but remember reading about it!"

"Iggguhhhh!"

"I didn't quite catch that."

"IGGGGUUUHHH!" His brow furrowed in frustration.

"You can tell me later." She waved it off. "What would wizards be without Muggles? It's like saying 'what would bad be without good?'. Without a comparison, bad would be normal, and we would know nothing different."

He seemed actually _interested_ in what she was saying, so she figured she better make it quick. "Basically, Muggles and Wizards make each other more special. Without Muggles, Wizards would just be normal people, and vise versa. They compliment each other."

He seemed to ponder that for a moment, but then snapped right into Dracoland. Making a little twitching movement with his head, he motioned for her to get out, because he had to……?

'Errr….Iuhhhh!"

She wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"Iuhhhh!"

"What?"

He groaned, and made a grab for the quill and parchment on his nightstand. Finally reaching it, he positioned it on his lap, and quickly scrawled;

****

Granger, I have to PISS!

Turning scarlet, Hermione jumped up, knocking the stool over with a giant 'CLANG!' Malfoy rolled his eyes, as she collected her things, and quickly hurried out he door.

A couple seconds later, she saw her bushy head peek back over the frame.

"Uh….bye."

****

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOOOIOIOIOIO

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Much love to reviewers! I had to stop today, because my wrist hurts like hell, but hopefully the next chapter will be longer! Stay tuned…..(and review..please!)

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magictrouser830: that sort of stuff will come later on……yes, I do have a mind like that! **Draco's Little Mudblood:** sparkly? Okkkaaayyy…..

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Anigen, **Elfaghetti**, **jesska-14**, **harryptaxd204**, **The Nauti Dolphin:** Thanks! I noticed that we're pretty high up in the C2 standings! **Puzzlette:** that bit was based on a friend of a friend of mine (whom this story is based on). He lost 25 pounds in 2 ½ weeks!


	4. DS Part 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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Go to the C2 I'm part of, called Fantastic Dramione Fiction! Show that D/Hr shippers are a force to be reckoned with!

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Don't Speak

Part 4

"Good Morning, Gilderoy!"

Gilderoy Lockhart watched, amazed, as his Healer friends brought out a huge stack of books.

"We have something special for you today!" Gunhilda Guthig exclaimed, dropping the books to the ground.

He smiled toothily. He loved books, especially if they had a lot of pictures in them, and were easy to read. His best Healer friend, Hermione, pulled the top one off, and handed it to him. It was sparkly, a bit heavy, and purple (his favourite colour!), and on the front there was a picture of……_him_!

She looked at him earnestly. "Gilderoy? Do…..do you remember this book?"

"M….Magical Me?" He sounded out the title like a four year old. "B-b-by Gil…..Gilderoy Lockhart!" Grinning, he motioned to the cover. "That's me!"

"It is you, Gilderoy," Healer Guthig said cautiously. Hermione slunk back to the side, and began to jot down observations in a purple folder. Lcokhart flipped through the book for a bit, using his finger as a guide when he read. Keeping a close eye on him, Guthig walked over towards Hermione.

"Do you think it will work?" the younger witch asked. Her idol shrugged her shoulders, and replied;

"It has worked previously, but there's no telling how his mind will respond. It _was_ a serious spell that put him here."

The two women looked over at the blond wizard lying on his stomach, reading the giant tome. Every couple seconds, he would turn the page, and mumble happily to himself.

Hermione turned back to Gunhilda. "I hate to say this, but he's almost….. I don't know…_more enjoyable_ this way."

"I completely understand."

"Isn't that, I don't know….._twisted_?"

"No." Healer Guthig stole a glance at her patient, and continued. "It's actually quite common, especially if you've had previous experience with the person. Take, for example, your friend, the Quidditch player."

"He's not my-"

She waved her hand, motioning to Hermione to stop. "Whatever. The only thing that matters is that you knew him before the accident. From what you've told me, he seems quite pleasant with his mouth all wired shut."

"Yeah. But this is totally different!"

"No, it isn't." The older woman smiled. "You've just let your biases take over. Young Master Malfoy's condition is basically the same as Gilderoy's. Both are unable to reach their full potential as wizards. You must not let yourself be selfish."

Hermione sighed, and walked over to Gilderoy. "Would you like to take a walk?" she offered. The gleeful man jumped up at the opportunity, and grabbed her outstretched arm.

As they headed out the door, she glanced at Gunhilda. The elder witch nodded her head in approval, then busied herself in picking up the giant books off the floor.

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No biases. Okay. I can do that.

****

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

Hermione loved walking with Gilderoy. His childlike curiosity made even the most mundane thing interesting and alive.

They took a sharp right, and walked into Alice and Frank Longbottom's room. Neville had been making quite a lot of trips to see his parents lately, and Hermione always made a point of talking to him, if even for a minute.

The freckle faced boy stood up, and greeted Hermione at the door. "I was wondering when you would show up, Herm," he said, "And with a visitor, no less." He shook Gilderoy's hand eagerly. "Hi, Mr. Lockhart!"

There was silence for a minute. Neville's parents snored quietly from their beds.

"C-c-c-cornish……P-p-p-p-pixies!"

Both Hermione and Neville stared at Gilderoy, who wore a blank, dazed expression on his face. "W-what did you say?" she asked cautiously.

Lockhart began smiling maniacally. "Cornish…..pixies! Cornish Pixies!" He laughed heartily, and poked Neville square on the nose. "Neville Longbottom! Scared of Cornish Pixies!"

"Oh my God," Hermione deadpanned. "Gilderoy…..what are you talking about?"

"Neville Longbottom! In my class! Scared of the Cornish Pixies!"

She turned to her friend. "Neville, did you-?"

He shook his head violently. "Not me."

"No one else had been around to see him," she mumbled.

"Hermione!" Gilderoy squashed her in a great hug.

"Mumffft!"

"You were my favourite, Hermione! You always knew everything! And your friends, Harry and Ron, they were also very nice."

Neville looked seriously freaked out now, his eyes were as round as Quaffles.

Hermione stuttered, "We'd better get back. I'm sure Gunhilda, ah, Healer Guthig, will want to take a look at him."

He waved goodbye, still shocked. She wrestled the excited man back to his room, spooked out of her wits. It was as if a ghost was inhabiting his body, but in a good way.

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Who says miracles don't happen?

****

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

"You should have been there today. Gunhilda couldn't believe it."

Hermione stared wistfully out the window in Malfoy's room. He seemed bored enough to actually listen to her today, so she gave her best to try to be entertaining.

"All the Healers expect him to make a full recovery," she continued. "None would have ever guessed it. His brain was just _so_ damaged from that spell, they're surprised he's recovering the information so quickly. I think he's improved from his original state already."

"Guuuh."

She looked over at him surprised. "Did they tighten your wires? I thought you were doing so well."

Glare. Eye roll. In layman's terms, he was saying, _No shit, Sherlock._

"That's too bad." She smiled as she saw a bird fluttering outside the window. "Does it ever amaze you how magic works?"

Eye roll. "Unghhhhh."

"Well, it constantly amazes me. These windows aren't _actually_ outside, and that bird isn't _actually _there. Yet, if I stuck my hand out the window, I would feel the breeze and the sunshine on my skin. It's so strangely wonderful."

She noticed that was looking uninterested. "I suppose I can't expect you to understand. It takes a Muggle perspective to see magic in such a mystical light."

"Sfffummmuh muuuullluuuuhhhhsss."

__

He didn't.

"What did you just say?"

Eye roll.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate it when you do that?" She glared back at him. "What makes you think that I won't tighten your wires for that _offensive_ and _rude _comment?"

His eyes widened, and turned puppy-ish.

__

Stupid Malfoy. I ought to tighten his wires a smidge, just to make him pay.

She pulled out her wand, and he cringed pathetically. "_Redu-"_

Healer Guthing's voice swam into her head, and her wise words echoed. _You've just let your biases take over._

Would she, seriously, do the same thing to Gilderoy? How many times had he clumsily spilled things on her, or called her names in fits of frustration? Did Malfoy really deserve an increase in pain, just because he was Malfoy?

__

Think about it, Hermione. Don't sink to his level.

"I….I'm sorry," she murmured, pocketing her wand. His face instantly relaxed, and he gave an audible sigh. "I don't know what I was thinking. I couldn't do that."

Her eyes flicked over the hand mirror on his bedside table. The calm, cool voice in her head began to scream at her….

__

NO! Don't do it! You'll get in so much trouble!

Her hand edged over, and took it. "Hey, Malfoy. You said you wanted to see yourself?"

His face brightened, and slowly, ever so slowly, she turned the mirror to face him.

****

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOOOIOI

__

Bad, bad Hermione! So mean!

How will Draco react at seeing himself? Stay tuned to find out!

PS: I'm no longer doing kudos to reviewers, because I'm uploading chapters so quickly, before I even get reviews. It's just easier for me, and I'm sorry, but this way you get chapters faster!


	5. DS Part 5

Disclaimer: I don't Own Harry potter

__

Look at the Fantastic Dramione C2 I'm part of! Do it! Please!

****

Don't Speak

Part 5

There was complete and utter silence. Hermione trembled slightly, awaiting the inevitable explosion of emotion that would spew foreword any second.

None came. Instead, Malfoy sank back into his pillows, face taught and gaunt. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, and he saw that they were brimming with tears.

__

Don't cry. PLEASE don't cry.

She couldn't bear watching people cry. It was nothing personal, but every time someone cried, she felt like crying too. And she could _never _cry in front of Malfoy!

"You don't look that bad," she reassured, panicking. He didn't seem to believe her, and waved his hand towards the door, motioning that she should go.

Placing the mirror back on his nightstand, she silently crept out the door. After she was out of his line of sight, she hitched up her robes and ran.

****

IOIOIOIOIOIOI

"Hermione, are okay? You haven't eaten all afternoon!"

Molly Weasley pushed a plate of fresh fried fish and chips in front of her face. Hermione could literally feel the salt and grease waft up from the platter, and up her nose, but her taste buds did not respond in their usual fashion. The plump witch frowned, and pulled up a chair.

"Did something happen at work today?"

Hermione shrugged, staring, distracted at the floor. If there _was_ something one her mind, she wasn't going to volunteer it. Molly figured it would be best to just leave her be, so she patted the girl's knee, and walked out the door.

The minute she was gone, Hermione threw herself onto her bed, and began to cry. ….hearted…..b-b-_bitch!_" she sobbed. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his thin face contorted in hidden pain, tears just ready to stream out.

She had never made anyone cry. She just couldn't make herself do it. It was too mean, and Hermione Granger was never mean.

__

Never, ever, ever!

When Harry walked in, ten minutes later, she was sleeping peacefully, arm tucked under her pillow. "Mione?" he asked softly, shaking her a bit.

She raised up her head sleepily. He instantly noticed the tearstains running down her cheeks, and rubbed at them gingerly with his thumb. "Bad day?"

Nodding slowly, she sat up and groaned, holding her head in her hands. "There was someone, uh, badly injured today. They were crying, and, well, you know how I am."

He smiled. "You're sensitive. It's not a bad thing." Helping her to her feet, he brushed off her robes, and gave her a quick hug. "Why didn't you just tell us? Ron and Gin are really worried."

"I'm fine, Harry. It happens all the time, you know that. Ron over reacts sometimes, and I didn't want to worry Ginny."

Harry nodded, and opened the door for her. She rolled her eyes at his gentlemanly behavior, and walked into the kitchen, where Fred and George were sitting.

Being instantly immersed in useless conversation, Hermione let her mind wander. Harry's actions were more than normal, they were expected, as he _always_ acted protective whenever she seemed hurt. At least, he had since The Incident.

The Weasleys never talked about it, especially not Molly. In their opinion, it was a missed opportunity, and was to never be spoken of again. Ginny had taken it in stride, not holding any blame, and still acted like the naughty little sister she had always been. Harry, however, assumed the role of Big Brother, and refereed when it got ugly.

The Incident had started a year ago, when Ron and Hermione had, in Fred's words, _"finally_ gotten together". She had been very flattered when she had found out that he liked her, and _of course_ she accepted his offer to go out with him. It was all so good and _nice_.

Then the world fell over, and Luna got boobs.

__

Actually, it was the other way around.

Hermione soon discovered that Ron wasn't exactly the most faithful boyfriend in the world. He had a 'wandering eye' for female beauty, and his eye often did wander, at dinner, dates, and even during a heated snogging session in the astronomy tower.

"You okay now?" Harry whispered in her ear. She nodded gently, and he turned back to his conversation.

Harry was such a sweetie. After her breakup with Ron, it seemed as if he was her only friend. They had tried dating for a while, then lost interest, and resumed being _really good friends._ Nothing else.

George pressed an apple into her hand. "Eat, Hermione. You look dead."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he and George laughed. "I meant it in a good way," he explained.

__

Is that even possible?

****

OIOIOIOIOOOIOIOIOIOIO

The minute Hermione walked into the coffee lounge, she knew something was wrong. Francine was there, along with Healer Gertie McGregor, and both were talking about…._diapers_, of all things. Healer Salle was there as well, and his face looked even more old and pinched than usual. She shrugged slightly, and picked up her folder of assignments for the day. Flipping it open, she saw her death sentence staring back at her in bold, glaring letters.

****

Healer Granger: Ground Floor-ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS

"Oh Lord," she moaned. "Someone important really hates me."

"Healer Granger, there's a special assignment for you." Salle ran his knobby fingers through his coarse, greying hair, and handed her a purple slip of parchment. "Full check-up on the Malfoy boy. He's been looking more peaky than usual."

__

Check that. A Sadist. An extreme, evil sadist is hell-bent on torturing me.

"Will do," she answered, taking the slip and shoving it into her robes.

Francine waved her over, and she sat in one of the gross, vinyl chairs situated around the table. Gertie leaned in closer, and asked, "What's wrong with the hottie? He seems out of sorts, and we were hoping you would know what to do to….you know….cheer him up."

__

Not you too.

Hermione groaned, and rubbed her eyes. "I don't know, I barely know the guy." The other girls snorted into their Styrofoam coffee cups.

"That's not what Salle said," they whispered. Hermione whirled around, but the elderly Healer was no where to be seen.

__

Evil sadist.

****

OIOIOIOIOOIOIOIOIOIO

She found him five minutes later in the Physiotherapy room, helping a spry, pigtailed girl walk between two metal bars. Sneaking up behind him, she poked his shoulder, and inquired, "Since when are middle-aged men experts on teenage romance?"

He blushed a pretty pink. Sending the little girl to another Healer, he turned around and answered, "Since said teenagers are so obviously infatuated with each other that even a blind old biddy could see them. I'm sorry, Healer Granger, but it's obvious. You care about him."

"I do _not!_" She glared at him, as he laughed in her face.

"I'm sure you don't care, Hermione. But if not caring for your patients means sitting there, staring at them sleep, I'd hate to see you around one you _do_ care about." He winked at her, and returned to his work on the little girl, leaving her standing.

__

Silly old man.

****

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI

"Uh, Hello?"

Hermione poked her nose around the familiar doorframe to Malfoy's room. Seeing as no one was there, she simply turned around and-

"AUGH!"

"UDDDDDAAAFUUUUUHHH!!!!"

__

CRASH!

His Royal Blondness made his arrival around a rather sharp corner, just as she turned it. After their unexpected merge of bodies, Hermione jumped up, and surveyed the damage. Malfoy was laying on the ground, moaning as usual, grabbing at his jaw. She stood there, frozen, unable to do anything, watching him writhe in pain from the blow.

A thunder of footsteps, and Healers Guthig, Salle, and Francine Palmer were on the scene. Still shaking from shock, Hermione stood aside as the two witches levitated his lank body on to a conjured stretcher, and wheeled him into an emergency room. Salle stayed behind, and when the excitement had passed, he turned to face Hermione.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, before collapsing into his arms in a fit of tears.

****

OIOIOIOIOIOIOOIOIOIOIO

__

She's really done it now! Poor Draco! You think it can't get any worse? Think again! (Just kidding. I think I've wrecked their lives enough for one story, don't you?) Now, time to pick up the pieces.

****

Puzzlette: Debonair? Okay….good luck with your surgery!

****

PinkTribeChick: I'm going by the movie. Neville was the only one freaked out by the pixies.

****

Next on "Don't Speak"!: _Salle (_I'm starting to love this guy!_) and Hermione have a bonding moment, Draco fumes (silently), Hermione tells the gang about the source of her problems, and Hermione makes it up to the grumpy invalid!_

****

Stay Tuned! 


	6. DS Part 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_Visit the Dramione C2!_

Don't Speak

Part 6

Hermione sat, head in her hands, outside the majour casting room. It was all her fault! If only she had slowed down, or _something_! Now, for all she knew, he might be dead, or even worse! He would never talk to her again!

The door swung open, and Healers Guthig and Salle walked out. Gunhilda gave Hermione a sympathetic smile, took some notes in a folder, and headed down the hall. Salle pulled off his smock, and sat down next to her.

"How are you doing?" he said softly. Hermione glanced up at him, her eyes red and puffy. She didn't know when she had actually stopped crying, but it hadn't been too long ago.

"I'm okay," she sniffed, wiping her nose on her robes. Etiquette was nothing among confidantes. "How's Malfoy?"

_"Draco_ had a bit of a spill, I'm afraid. He's all wired up, and won't be out before September."

"He'll miss school?" Hermione bit her lip. "That's horrible!"

"It's inevitable, unless someone performs a miracle," Salle explained. "We can't afford to cast on his jaw without insurance, and his parents won't allow it."

"He isn't under-age though, is he?"

"He's seventeen, but he can't speak for himself. Until he is capable of saying his part, he is under the care of his parents." Salle wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry. He'll be alright. He'll have _you_ to look after him."

She half laughed, half snorted. "A lot of good I've done."

"You've done plenty of good. When the boy came in, he was a grouchy mess...."

".....now he's a grumpy _broken_ mess," she finished soberly. "He's going to hate me even _more_ after this."

He smiled. "But you don't hate him any more, do you?"

"I _can't _hate him! I've hurt him so much!"

"I'm sure he doesn't mind half as much as you do," Salle said. Grunting and creaking, he sat up from the bench, and patted her head. "All's well that ends well, Hermione, and the end isn't even in sight."

He chuckled lightly to himself, and walked off. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

_What on Earth is that supposed to mean?_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"He's been like that all afternoon, ever since they brought him back from casting."

Healer Francine Palmer, and Trainee Emery Cameron glanced at the grumpy patient from across the room. Emery shook his head of ginger curls. "I would be sleeping if that were I, to tell you the truth."

"So would I," confessed Francine. "I don't know how he does it, staying up all nights. And if he doesn't stop frowning, he'll get wrinkles."

Emery chucked at Francine's apparent concern about Draco's facial features. "That would be a crying shame, wouldn't it?"

"It would, Em."

He rolled his eyes, and walked out the door to get some coffee. Francine just sat there, staring at Draco's scowl. He had been cranky ever since she had awoken him, and every so often, he would dart his eyes around the room, as if he was looking for someone. She wished that he would, just once, rest his eyes on her. Even with all those bandages on, he was _so _handsome.

There was a squeak, and a rustle at the door. Francine, checked over her shoulder, and smiled when she saw a head of bushy brown hair, and honey eyes staring back at her.

"Hullo, Hermione! What brings you here?"

"UHHNNNHGGGGGHHH!"

Hermione squeaked again, and darted out of the room. Francine glared, as much as she could, at Draco.

"It's okay, Mione. He won't bite. Remember, he cant even open his mouth!"

Creeping back around the doorframe, Hermione tip toed in. "That's no excuse to just barge in here, when he obviously doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Stop making excuses," Francine waved it off. "He doesn't mind."

"UNNNNGGGGHHHH!"

The petite Healer continued chatting, as if he wasn't there. "Like I was saying, Draco here has just been _dying _for your company." She waggled her eyebrows.

Hermione chose to ignore the ill-used pun, which Malfoy had groaned loudly at. As Ginny always said, "_if you ignore something, eventually it will leave."_ All she wanted was a bit of alone time with Malfoy, a time to apologize. Francine obviously didn't get the point.

"......then I was talking with Jane, and.....You remember Jane, don't you, Herm? She's a wonderful friend of mine, that girl. She was talking about how you were talking to the one Quidditch friend of yours, the hot one?"

"Oliver?" Hermione volunteered. _Oliver's good looking, I guess._

"Yes, that one! So she assumed that you liked Quidditch, after all_ who _wouldn't like Qudditch, what with _that _dish playing! Anywho, she told me to give these to you. She has no use for them, and she thought that maybe you could take that little friend of yours, Jenny?"

"Ginny," Hermione corrected. Francine handed her an envelope, which she took, and opened. Inside were two slate grey tickets, for the Falcons vs. Pride game in two weeks.

"Francine.....I..."

"Just take them, Herm. You'll put them to better use than I ever will."

"Thanks, Francine." Hermione gave her a quick hug. "You're a pal."

The two girls were blissfully unaware of the now fuming and quaking Draco Malfoy, who was quickly turning purple. They turned, and headed down the hall, chatting easily, leaving him tired, mad, and depressed.

OIOOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOOOOIOIOIOI

"GIMMIE!"

Ginny Weasley launched herself over the couch at Hermione, who was on the floor, waving the tickets over her head. Just then, both Ron and Harry made mad swipes at them, smacking the zealous redhead on the face.

"Why would she take _you_?" Ron screamed, his face going purple. "You don't even play Quidditch!"

"I do so!" she retorted.

"Not for FUN!"

Harry, meanwhile, slid behind the arguing siblings, and whispered into Hermione's ear. "I am your favourite, aren't I?"

She laughed. "You know it, Harry. But, I'm afraid these tickets are already taken."

"What?"

Three sets of eyes stared at her, each it's own pit of madness. She gulped.

"I've already decided that I'm going with....Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Ginny scrunched up her face in disgust.

Ron's face went ash-white. _"Malfoy?"_

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Harry giggled nervously. "I mane, why would you go to a Quidditch match with Malfoy?"

"Have you even talked to him?" Ginny asked, dreading the answer.

"I've talked to him, yes." _Not a lie at all._ "He's at St. Mungo's, hurt, and I wanted to cheer him up. The Falcons are his favourite team."

The trio looked as though Dumbledore himself had beamed down to Earth, butt-naked, and covered in peanut butter. Each face displayed it's own weirded out/disgusted/furious/sick expression, and it all would have been very comical, if not for the situation.

"Oh." Harry deadpanned. "Okay."

"Just for kicks, what's wrong with him?" Ron asked. "I'm not actually concerned, just curious."

"Quidditch accident," Hermione answered, vaguely. "He won't be back for school."

Ginny, Harry and Ron tried not to look too excited, but were failing miserably. Before she totally freaked on them, she decided to go down to Mungo's, and make it up to poor Malfoy.

"I'll see everyone later," she said, and turned around, and left.

Ginny glanced over at Harry and Ron, before muttering, "I think she likes him."

"EEEEWWWW!" Ron spat. "That's disgusting."

Harry wore a similar look of disgust on his face. "He must be so injured that she can't even recognise him!"

"Or hear him!" Ron added.

"That's true," Ginny said, "From a strictly aesthetic point of view, he is good looking, but once he opens his mouth, you forget you ever thought he was attractive."

OIOIOIOIOIOOOIOIOIOOIO

Hermione snuck into Malfoy's room. It was late, and he was finally asleep, clutching at his pillow like a teddy bear. She smiled, and slipped the envelope with the remaining ticket into his curled fingers, along with a handwritten apology. Staring once more at his angelic form, she crept out the door.

_If he doesn't have to speak, than I don't have to either._

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

_Sorry for the long wait. I have a boyfriend (gasp!) now, and a life! EEE! Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things, and update more often._

_Much kisses! I love you guys!_

OH YEAH! Before I forget. Do you guys want the ending of this to be a) a songfic Or b) not a songfic? Please comment! Thanks


	7. DS Part 7

Disclaimer: I don't own harry Potter

**Don't Speak**

**Part Seven**

"Is it safe to come in?"

Healer Jane DeSotho was accustomed to asking that before walking into every patient's room, even the ones who were unconscious, or unable to speak. It was common courtesy, after all everyone had a right to privacy, even the grumpy and bratty.

This patient was all of the above, and more. Draco Malfoy was still in a foul mood from all his injuries, and even a ticket to the Falcons game hadn't cheered him up. Jane smiled at his sour face.

"Hullo Grouchy-Pants! What's wrong?"

He groaned at her happy demeanor, and waved his ticket in her face. She frowned, placing her hands on her hips.

"What's wrong with that? A pretty girl asks you to a Falcons game, and you're grouchy?"

"UGGGRHHH!"

It was almost a _gagging_ noise. She rolled her eyes at his childish behavior, and began to magically change his wrappings. "That's not very nice of you, Draco. Hermione could have given that ticket to _anyone_, but instead, she gave it to you. What do you think that _means_, aside from the fact that she has no taste at all?"

She paused, and watched his face contort into a horrified expression. _I think he's gotten it now._

"She _liiiiiikes _you!"

He shook his head desperately, wincing as his wires shifted dangerously. Jane "tsk"-ed him impatiently, and charmed his wires back into place.

"You're going to kill yourself one day, do you know that? Well," she stifled a snigger, "As long as Hermione doesn't kill you first."

He seemed to agree with her.

"She does it all in love though. You should have seen her while you were in casting. I've never seen someone cry that much!"

His eyes widened as she changed his pillowcases. "She cares, I think."

_I think. _Throwing the dirty linens onto her trolley, she headed out the door with a wink and a wave.

**OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO**

Hermione watched, fascinated, as Francine picked her nose across the table. It had been a quiet morning at St. Mungo's, almost devoid of any real injuries, so she had to rely on menial entertainment to get her through the day.

The door opened, and in popped Jane. Throwing a quick wave in Francine's direction, she pushed her trolley into the corner, and plopped down next to Hermione. With a wave of her wand, she had a cup of coffee. Sipping it thoughtfully, she asked;

"Guess who I visited this morning?"

"Who," Hermione responded automatically. Jane snorted into her mug.

"I thought it would be obvious. Draco, of course!"

Groans erupted from around the table. She looked wildly around at everyone. "What?!?"

"It is obvious, Jane. You're obsessed with the guy." Francine gulped down her own cup of java. "It's a bit scary, actually."

"Oh yeah! Well, you pick your nose!"

Hermione chuckled. "You two crack me up."

Jane smirked. "Oh, do we? Well, aren't _you_ a mite bit obsessed with Draco too?"

"Obsessed? Nooooo." She casually sipped her coffee. "I'm just concerned about his well being, that's all."

_That sounded so fake._ Glancing around the room, she downed her mug, and stood up. "If you'll all excuse me, I have work to do."

"Work?" Francine smiled. "I need some work. Where are you finding this work?"

"Upstairs."

Hermione left the lounge, and headed up the lift to Gilderoy's room. The entire staff was impressed by his progress so far, and Healer Guthig was betting that he would be out by September.

_Unlike Malfoy._ What would Hogwarts be like without Malfoy? No one to bug her, or call her names......

"Ha," she mumbled to herself. "I sound like a sap."

_Like I would actually miss him tormenting me._

**OIOIOIOIIIOIOIOIOIO**

It came quite suddenly, actually. The entire staff of St. Mungo's had known that it was coming for weeks, and it was only luck that Hermione was there to catch it. It was a question only she could answer.

"Why do people hate me, Hermione?"

Gilderoy Lockhart looked up from his book with watery eyes. Hermione immediately dropped her files, and rushed over to hug him. Gunhilda had been prepping her for his questions all week. She had explained that he was in a very _intense_ recovery period, where he was impressionable and fragile.

"People don't hate you, Gilderoy. Why do you think they would?"

He sniffed, and buried himself into her hair. "I saw some people talking about me. And, _oh_, I know I'm not supposed to listen to strangers, but I did, and they said mean things."

Hermione felt something wet and sticky seep onto her shoulder. She supressed a grimace, and patted Gilderoy's golden curls gingerly. "I'm sure they didn't mean it."

"Of _course_ they did!" he sobbed. "Why would they say it if they didn't mean it?"

"Well, sometimes people say things they don't mean," she whispered. "Like jealous people. People who want things you have." She cleared her throat. "I'd bet the people who said mean things about you don't actually mean them. I mean, sometimes people say mean things about me, about my hair, and how I'm a Muggleborn, but they don't actually mean it. What they're actually trying to say is that they're jealous of me! Jealous!" Screwing up her face, she shook her head, and spat, "How could anyone be jealous of _me_! Especially _him_! Who am I trying to fool! People say mean things about others because they just want to! There's no real reason! They're just mean-spirited, cruel-hearted _gits_! Right, Gilderoy? Gilderoy?"

"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...."

"Never mind."

She stood up quietly, setting the sleeping Lockhart down on the rug. _Wow, talk about bi-polar, OOC Hermione, _she thought, thankful that the impressionable patient hadn't heard her little unstability rant. Gunhilda would have had her head for it.

Checking her watch for the time, Hermione headed downstairs to leave. On a whim, she decided to go visit Malfoy. After all, he was her patient, under her care, and she hadn't visited him in almost three days!

Outside his door, she suddenly stopped. Was that a kettle? She could hear a strange noise coming from Malfoy's room. It stopped, then started again, this time crafting a unique tune.

_Is that.....Another One Bites the Dust?_

She poked her nose around the doorframe, and pulled back when she saw Malfoy humming the catchy Muggle song with zest.

_I suppose sitting alone in a hospital room would do that to a person._ She knocked lightly on the door, and stepped in. Malfoy abruptly ended his concert when he saw her there, and scowled.

"Sorry to disturb you." Her mind went blank. _What am I supposed to say? _"I....uh...really like Queen too."

_Scowl, scowl, scowl. _Apparently his musical talents weren't meant to be overheard. Hermione blushed pink. Harry and Ron always sang in the shower at The Burrow, and she found it so annoying. Malfoy was equally tone-deaf, but she found him.....touching?

_Cute._ That's what it was. She found his singing cute!

_What's wrong with me? _

Malfoy cocked his head at her, like she was stupid or something. She blushed back.

He wrinkled his nose. She bit her lip.

He silently groaned. She giggled.

_Oh no....._

**OIOIOIOIOOIOIOIOI**

_**That's an "oh no" for both Mione and this author. I hate it when she suddenly falls for Malfoy. It sucks, and deflates a story. But, hey, I'm a fool in love! Maybe he'll do something disgusting in the next chapter.....**_

_**Majority rules! Sorry, but the ending is NOT going to be a songfic! I'll probably post the lyrics to the song (Don't Speak, by No Doubt, a bit of a no-brainer) before I actually post the chapter, just to get everyone in the mood. Comprende? Oh yes, and this doesn't mean this story is ending soon. Nope nope nope**_

_**I totally blundered through this, the beginning-middle of the chapter is like a giant run-on sentence. I'm sorry for the crappy quality here, but after I listened to "Don't Speak" I got ideas. Coincidence? I think not! Maybe a "Hey Baby" one shot in the future.....?**_


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